Gundam Wing: Ghosts of the Past
by Christi Talmer
Summary: Kidfic. The G-Boys we all know and love have grown up, and have adjusted well to life without war. Their respective offspring are flourishing...but the innocence of one may prove to be the ruin of them all. Sequel to 'The Kid.'.


::disclaimer::

Gundam Wing and all affiliated logos, characters, etc. belong to Sunrise and the Sotsu Agency. I claim no ownership, and no trademark infringement is intended in the publication of this piece of fiction. The new characters are the creation of my own frightening mind, and probably own me more than I do them. 

::author note::

This story takes place around AC 217. This would make the original pilots somewhere around 37 years old, and Sally Po+Lady Une forty-one-ish. It takes place 17 years after 'The Kid', and I _highly_ recommend that you read it first. Later on, things will not make much sense to you unless you read the first fic first. 

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...In the past few months, unidentified Mobile Suit sightings have been on the rise. After the AC 196 incident, it was thought that all MS within the Earth Sphere were destroyed. Apparently this is not the case. Exercise highest security on this information; it is highly delicate and volatile. Observation ONLY; we do not know the output of these new MS and engaging the suits would needlessly endanger personnel. Sightings have been recorded at...

"I'm home!"

Heero Yuy hastily shut down the search program he had been running; his daughter needn't know about that, and, besides, while not _totally_ illegal, his program might be frowned upon. Something he definitely didn't need these days. 

"Hello, Dad. What's up?"

Solace had finally shown up; she grinned happily at him, and Heero couldn't help but smile back at her. She had grown up so beautifully, he couldn't help but notice it every time he saw her. The ex-pilot couldn't even envision a time without her, but remembered the day he first saw her clearly. He shivered unconsciously. There wasn't much he wouldn't give to erase _that_ day from his mind. The Perfect Soldier had still existed then, and the cold detachment still haunted his nightmares, sometimes...

"Dad? You okay?" Her dazzling sea green eyes looked at him with concern, and he made an effort to smile once more.

"I'm fine. Just caught in a daydream...how was school?" the father asked, trying to steer the conversation to safer waters. She gave him a curious look, but went with the flow.

"Not too bad. Afton still thinks I'm trying to show her up, and told the principal as much, but he seemed to think it was pretty funny." Solace gave her dad a look. "After the little show with that last science teacher, Mr. Anderson seems to almost _look_ for an excuse to call you into the school. I've never seen anyone's jaw drop so low."

Heero laughed at the vivid memory.

"...but other than that, everything went pretty normally. You need me for anything tonight?"

Now it was his turn to give her a look.

"You know, I haven't seen you here a full night since last Christmas."

Laughing, she began to ascend the stairs.

"That's not true! You see me at _least_ once a month!"

She disappeared upstairs, and Heero's computer promptly beeped at him. He turned, frowning to see what it wanted now. The frown curved upwards a bit, however, when the man saw what it was beeping about.

**__**

clownboy_138 writes:

Keep your daughter away from my son.

**__**

wing_01 writes:

Keep your son away from my daughter...and I see Catherine has convinced Quatre to hack into your account, again.

**__**

clownboy_128 writes:

And I see you haven't bothered to change yours back, again. How did this happen? They're _teenagers_.

**__**

wing_01 writes:

You don't need to tell _me_ that. Another late night, ne?

**__**

clownboy_128 writes:

Yeah. Maybe I should come over, to make sure your daughter doesn't seduce my son.

**__**

wing_01 writes:

You mean to make sure your son doesn't molest my daughter? You're welcome; nothing happening over here tonight.

**__**

clownboy_128 writes:

Thanks. Maybe I'll hitch a ride with Miles, just to make him twitch.

**__**

wing_01 writes:

Always thought you had a little sadist around there somewhere, Barton.

**__**

clownboy_128 writes:

And you, Yuy, you've...I'll gladly continue this discussion with you later. Em wants to use the computer. 

**__**

wing_01:

Acknowledged. I'll see **you** later, 03.

**__**

clownboy_128 writes:

Just you wait, 01.

Chuckling, Heero saw Trowa log off and closed the chat window. He immediately refocused on business.

__

Now, back to that report...unidentified MS. That's only going to be trouble.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whistling, Miles Barton walked out the back door of his house, heading for the old shed that served for target practice.

"Hello, old chap," he said to the crude figure drawn on the dilapidated structure. Kneeling down to unpack his knives, the teen continued. "Hope you've recovered from that nasty one I gave you awhile back..." The deep gash in the middle of the painting's stomach proved he hadn't. "Well, anyway, I think I've improved. Want to see? And Em," he called, still not looking at the shack, "you might want to get out of there before I get started. The wood isn't _that_ thick."

Scowling only a little bit, a pretty brunette emerged. 

"I don't know how you do that."

"ESP."

"You're full of it, Miles Barton."

The tall European straightened and grinned.

"Actually, I saw you sneaking out of the house a few minutes ago. Not that you're difficult to see, or hear..."

At that, Emily marched over and punched her brother, hard, in the arm. He stood, rubbing the wound and grimacing.

"God, Em! Take it easy! You're going to throw off my aim."

"Like it matters...you're ten times better than I am anyway. A little imperfection never hurt anyone, brother dear."

Miles rolled his eyes, and Emily headed into the house, smirking. Once she had disappeared, the younger sibling pulled out his daggers and began practicing. 

__

Well, I have_ gotten better_, the brown-haired teen admitted. Glittering blue eyes surveyed the target; every single blade had found its mark. They were sticking through the other side, he knew, since they had hit those spots so many times. He strolled up to the board, pulled out the knives, and returned to his starting position. Lining up his target carefully, Miles let the blades fly, glinting sharp silver in the afternoon sun. Again, a perfect round; one knife in each leg and arm, and one protruding from the unfortunate figure's stomach.

"You're getting to be too good at that. I think I'm afraid for my life."

Turning, Miles saw his father standing a few feet away, leaning against one of the large trees in their yard. The son smiled at the picture. From what he could tell, Trowa Barton had changed little since his mid teens. Still slender, still unibanged, still quiet. His father had opened up some, he'd been told, since the War, but Trowa was still far less talkative than, say, Uncle Duo. Many people said the son looked exactly like the father, which was a little funny, because...

"Going out with Solace again tonight?"

The teen grinned apologetically.

"Unless there's something going on here I need to stay for..."

"No, it's fine with me. Heero and I will hang around his place and talk."

Miles nodded, then went to retrieve his knives.

"Let me try that. I want to see if I'm still better than you are, or if all that practice has really paid off..."

Aiming carefully, Trowa threw the sharp weapons through the air, towards the shed. The _thunk_ed into the wood, hard, but a little off from Miles' deep scars. He blinked, then looked at Miles, who smiled sweetly and grabbed his knives once more.

"Well, practice does make perfect...maybe I should go practice something else. See you later, Dad!"

The teenager fairly retreated into the house, leaving his father blinking at the target in disbelief. Finally, he turned back to go into the house, shaking his head ruefully.

__

It was bound to happen sometime, with all the time he spends out here...I suppose I should practice more, too. _Kids!_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taptaptaptaptap

Solace's fingers flew across the keyboard of her laptop, quickly recording the history and development of MS.

__

Effin' World History homework, she thought resentfully. _Like I need to _know_ any of it, all MS were destroyed before I was even effin' born..._

Sighing, the teen continued tapping away, occasionally clicking onto an Internet program for research.

..._Somewhere around the year 2015 AD, the earliest recognizable Mobile Suit was introduced. These ancestors of modern MS were used primarily for commercial purposes: i.e., lifting heavy objects. By 2030 MS were being publicly produced for military use; it is probable they were in prototypical use before then. Since then, huge leaps have been made in technology and war tactics, and MS have evolved with the times. At first, mainly steel, aluminum and other Earth-metal alloys were used to build Mobile Suits. Over time, new materials such as neo-titanium alloy and Gundamium were discovered, and did their part to forward the development of MS. However, it is probable that such machines will never be seen again. The Earth Sphere Unified Nation Congress banned weapons like MS from its territory, and all existing suits were destroyed. After the AC 195 and AC 196 Christmas incident, destruction of the suits seemed to be the best path for all of the world. Time will only tell if this is true; while annihilating all known existing suits will rid the Earth Sphere of weapons for some time, it has also cut off most means of the government to respond to any threat that dares produce Mobile Suits once again. An organization with such weapons would have little trouble dominating the Earth Sphere, as the AC 196 incident showed. While the Preventors organization seems to be doing its job of eliminating threats before they become too large to be dealt with, things can always slip through the cracks. Everyone in the Earth Sphere should hope that nothing does..._

Curious, Solace reread a few lines in the web page.

"Well, that's interesting..." she muttered, then saw the clock at the bottom of her screen. "Shimatta! Going to be late!"

Solace hurriedly threw on a pair of black pants and a red, one-shoulder top; they were playing tonight, and she had to look good!

"Hey, Soul," her father called up the stairway, "Miles and Trowa are here..."

"Yeah, yeah, coming," she grumbled as she clicked off of her internet program and grabbed her bag. After a final cursory glance around the room (to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything), the girl flew down the stairs and almost hit someone coming up.

"Oh, hi, Trowa," she said cheerfully, then descended the rest of the stairs at a more realistic rate. The taller man quirked an eyebrow and smiled.

"Hello to you, too, Solace. Do you greet everyone this way now, or only special visitors?"

She beamed at him, then turned to talk with her father, who was standing at the foot of the stairs looking stern.

"Behave yourself-"

"Always do..."

"Watch the stage-"

"For crazed fans, I know..."

"And play nice-"

"Never will. Love ya, Dad! See you later tonight!"

His daughter leaned over and gave Heero a quick peck on the cheek, waved at Trowa and ran out the door to where Miles' pickup was parked.

"Sorry I'm late..."

The eldest Barton grinned and leaned over to give her a kiss hello. Once they separated, he smiled again and started the truck.

"It'll be no problem. They can't start without us, anyway, and it's amateur night. There will be _plenty_ of bad acts to lead up to us, believe me."

Back in the house, Heero and Trowa watched their respective teenagers drive off into the night. Trowa sighed and smiled. 

"They've grown up."

Heero nodded his agreement, then looked up at the clear night sky. Stars speckled the black, and a few large ones signaled the colonies.

"Things are different now, from when we were their age..."

"Were different, Heero. I saw that Preventors report too. I hope Une can stop this before it starts."

"So do I."

The two old friends stayed there for awhile, just staring up at the stars and contemplating their pasts, the present, and their children's futures. Heero stared at the sky, focusing on the single brightest star he could see.

__

Please, don't make them go through it too. Once was bad enough. Let this beat last a little longer....

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::author note::

For any who haven't pored over fansites for hours on end like me, _shimatta_ is a mild Japanese curse, equivalent to 'damn' or 'shit'. At least, that's what I've been told...the 'beat' Heero's referring to is 'three beats of war, peace and revolution' (Mariemeia, E.W.). Had to add that after one of my good friends (a GW fan, albeit a little new yet) gave me a 'what the hell have YOU been doing in your spare time' look after reading this. Read+review, onegai! Thanks!

~_Christi_


End file.
